


Food Wars

by quokkall



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, TIVA - Freeform, meet au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quokkall/pseuds/quokkall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiva meet AU, where Tony gets hungry and starts stealing food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food Wars

**Author's Note:**

> Tiva meet AU (the only things that are canon are the pre-Kill Ari team and Ziva being Mossad), where Tony gets hungry (no, not like that, get your mind out of the gutter...okay, maybe a little bit like that, if you squint).

They had pulled another all-nighter, Tony could still feel the crick in his neck from falling asleep at his desk around 3 AM, and Gibbs was on a warpath. He’d asked the boss man if he could bring them back some muffins or pastries when he went on his coffee-run that morning—the whole team hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before and vending machines can only get you so far. He wasn’t surprised when Gibbs returned with nothing but a hot coffee and a cold stare.

“Another Nutter Butter it is then,” he grumbled, getting up and walking to the breakroom, making sure he had enough cash to get something for Kate and McGee as well; they looked like they were about to cave under Gibbs’ relentless glares and two-word orders.

Walking in, yawning widely with his eyes closed, he bumped into Mavis who was in the process of putting her lunch in the communal fridge. The 58-year old HR-assistant glared at him, she hadn’t liked him from the get-go and the feeling was mutual, and he shot her his widest grin, knowing how much she hated it. She huffed and walked out as he walked up to the vending machine.

He’d already gotten two Nutter Butters when his exhausted brain came up with a better plan and he turned on his heels, quirking an eyebrow at the fridge. He walked over and opened it to find a non-descript container and a foil-wrapped sandwich. Tony opened them both, deciding the pasta salad looked a lot more like something a bitter old woman would bring to work. It also looked and smelled a heck of a lot better than the sandwich. Grabbing the container, he looked over his shoulder suspiciously and closed the fridge before making a hasty retreat.

The two candy bars were deposited on Kate and McGee’s desks in a theatrical way, before Tony sat down at his desk and smacked his lips loudly as he opened the food container.

McGee’s head shot up, brow furrowed. “Hey, where did you get that?”

“If I can’t even find a decent breakfast, McEnvy, how could I possibly find the bad guys?” Tony questioned with an exaggerated look.

McGee looked back at his candy bar with mild disappointment. As Tony turned his attention back to the deliciously smelling salad in front of him—just how hungry was he that he thought salad could smell good—his gaze briefly met Kate’s. The suspicious look she was giving him told him she wasn’t quite as gullible as the probie as to how he procured his breakfast.

He made a face, earning him an eye roll, and dug in.

An hour later he made sure to sneak the empty container back into the fridge without anyone noticing. Arriving back at his desk he did a 180 as a gorgeous foreign-looking brunette breezed past him and up the stairs to the director’s office. Gibbs’ head slap snapped him out of his reverie.

***

Although Gibbs had sent them home for a couple of hours of sleep, it didn’t look like the day was going to be much better than the previous two. Tony’s stomach grumbled in protest at the mere thought of possibly going without food for a prolonged period of time again.

His highlight of the day was accidentally bumping into the mysterious brunette he’d seen yesterday. Apart from looking her up and down, a look she had returned with a sly smile that had made him feel both intrigued and slightly uncomfortable, he hadn’t actually had a chance to introduce himself before Abby had tottled up to him waving a piece of paper in his face, rambling about…he honestly didn’t know.

She had taken one look at him and then the mystery woman and scowled at him. Before Little Miss Mystery was even out of earshot, Abby said, “You don’t want to mess with her, Tony. Seriously. She’s dangerous.”

Of course, telling Tony DiNozzo he shouldn’t do something, and emphasizing it was dangerous, usually only made him want to do the thing even faster. And he certainly wouldn’t mind doing her, he thought as he ogled her ass in those cargo pants. This earned him a head slap from Abby.

Around noon it looked like his stomach had been correct that morning; they wouldn’t be getting much time to eat lunch, let alone go out and buy some. Tony briefly contemplated if he should start bringing lunch from home, when it occurred to him that there were easier ways to have a homemade lunch than to actually make it himself. Work smarter, not harder and all that.

Tony snuck into the lunchroom, checked the fridge, and sure enough; a similar container was placed in the middle, almost begging him to take it. He didn’t bother checking what was inside until he got back to his desk.

The falafel staring back at him as he opened the lid threw him off a bit. He didn’t exactly have Mavis pegged as someone who would enjoy exotic food. Maybe she did it deliberately, thinking nobody would steal falafel, he thought. He shrugged, beggars can’t be choosers, and popped a falafel in his mouth. It wasn’t half bad. In fact, that dip was downright delicious.

***

Early next morning, they’d caught the murderer and the frantic pace of the previous days slowed down to normal. They were catching up on paperwork when Gibbs and the foreign beauty Abby had warned Tony about both walked out of the elevator.

Tony’s head swung from the brunette to his boss several times, before he got up and walked up to Gibbs’ desk.

“Who’s she?” Tony asked with an eager smile, head nodding in the direction the woman had disappeared in.

Gibbs raised his head and gave him a look that shouted “Did you just ask me what I think you asked me?” and Tony had the common sense to mumble something about finishing a report and rushing back to his desk.

When Tony went to get a soda a couple of hours later he couldn’t help but stare at the fridge on his way out of the lunchroom. He made a U-turn, curiosity getting the better of him. They’d already agreed on getting burgers for lunch so there really was no need to see what delicious treasures were hidden behind the cold grey door.

“you work for law enforcement, stop stealing my food”

The yellow sticky note on the lunch box was a mistake. It was like a red rag to a bull and Tony couldn’t help but take it as a challenge.

He checked his pockets for a ten-dollar bill, grabbed the sticky note and a pen and wrote down “It’s not stealing if you pay for it”, then placed the money and note where the lunch box had been. He was only mildly disappointed to discover the box was filled with copious amounts of lettuce and other stuff that looked entirely too healthy to his taste.

Luckily, McGee showed up with lunch not long after and Tony immediately offered to bring Abby’s burger down to her lab. Maybe if he offered her the rabbit food as well, she’d spill what she knew about the exotic beauty roaming the hallways.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her?” Abby admonished, narrowing her eyes.

Tony held out his hands, palms facing her, hoping to keep her calm. “I have. I’d just like to know who I’m staying away from and why,” he said casually. “Besides,” he added secretively. “You know I like to know everything about everyone.” He winked and gave her his million dollar smile.

Abby didn’t look particularly convinced, but Abby wasn’t the best at refraining from office gossip either. She didn’t have much for him, though; a name (Ziva David), employment (liaison officer with the Middle East Field Office) and nationality (Israeli).

Gibbs walked into the lab, just as Tony was about to interrogate Abby on why she thought Ziva was dangerous. Considering he hadn’t gotten a head slap all day, and he wanted to keep it that way, Tony decided to postpone his questions and get back to work instead.

***

Tony was in the breakroom the next day, waiting for the oven to ding, when none other than Ziva David strolled in, looking every bit as gorgeous and intriguing as she had the first day he had seen her.

She caught his stare and raised an eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

“I appear to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours,” Tony said with a smirk and cringed inwardly. That line had only worked once and the girl had passed out drunk less than a minute after giving him her number.

Ziva laughed out loud and placed her hand in front of her mouth when she snorted. Tony raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

“Does that line work on American women?” Ziva said, trying to contain her laughter.

Tony tapped his chin with a finger, pretending to give it some thought. “Only when they’re dead drunk.”

Her shoulders shook a few times in silent laughter.

“Alright. How about this pick-up line,” Tony said, deciding to change tactics and go for ridiculous. “Is your father a boxer, because you’re a knockout?”

Her frown confused him as much as the pick-up line had apparently confused her.

“Do you know who my father is?” Ziva asked and stared at him intensely.

He opened and closed his mouth, confused at how fast her demeanor had changed.

“Um. Not a boxer, I assume?” he said cautiously.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he jumped a little when the oven next to him dinged. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards and he decided that pretty girls at bars were a lot easier to pick up than mysterious Israelis with cold stares.

He grabbed the croissant, a plate and sat down before turning his attention back to Ziva. She was still giving him that intimidating stare, until her nostrils flared the slightest and her eyes dropped to the pastry in front of him. He watched her shoulders slump the tiniest bit and heard her stomach rumble as she gazed at the croissant longingly.

“Long day?” he questioned.

Ziva closed her eyes for a moment. “Long week,” she said, then waved a hand as a scowl flashed across her face. “I have not had lunch,” she added.

“Oh, I know what those days are like,” Tony said in sympathy.

He cut the croissant in two uneven pieces, took the smallest and slid the plate with the other half in Ziva’s direction. He wasn’t really hungry anyways, he was still full from the caesar salad he had for lunch. He smirked remembering the note that had accompanied the food he had pilfered: I hope you choke on it.

Ziva sat down opposite of him and said, “Toda.”

Tony swallowed his piece of pastry and smiled his trademark smile. “Prego.”

He had yet to meet a girl who didn’t fall for, even it was just a little bit, what little Italian he spoke. The huff coming from across the table told him Ziva would probably be the exception to the rule.

“Tony DiNozzo, the Italian gigolo who could not be more American,” she said sounding amused.

He raised both eyebrows and smiled mischievously. “I assure you, I am very Italian.”

Ziva snorted again at that and he briefly wondered how she could be so hot and obnoxious at the same time. But then she started rambling in Italian and he decided obnoxious was temporarily winning out. Although he had to admit that the way the Italian rolled of her tongue was pulling him towards hot again. Dammit, that woman was all kinds of confusing.

When she stopped talking and looked at him expectantly with a smirk, he shrugged nonchalantly and deadpanned, “Well, obviously my favorite food is pizza.”

She chuckled and took a bite of the croissant. His phone rang, announcing the beginning of another case, and Tony was slightly disappointed his break was over.

***

Days, cases and lunches passed, and for two days in a row, Tony had opened the fridge and not found the food container he’d expected to find. Somewhat disappointed he’d resorted to ordering lunch with his teammates. Assuming his shenanigans had gone too far, he’d decided to get an Olive Garden coupon and leave it in the fridge with a thank you note.

But then he opened the fridge and there it was again. Taunting him.

“karma’s a witch”

That’s not how you spell that word, Mavis, he thought and pocketed the coupon and the lunch box.

Kate shot him a look of disapproval when he sat down at his desk. “One of these days you’ll get what’s coming to you,” she said snarkily.

“I already am; healthy and delicious lunches,” he smiled sweetly holding up the lunch box. “Somebody out there loves me and wants me to lead a long and healthy life.”

Kate made a disgusted noise in response and he smirked, opening his top drawer to deposit the sticky note with a few of the others he’d kept.

“I have a cold, you’re welcome”

“this fell on the floor”

“a fly landed in the dip, enjoy the extra protein”

“I can kill you with a spoon”

“if I ever find out who you are you’ll be eating through a straw for a month”

Okay, so, maybe not exactly a long and healthy life.

***

“if you eat my lunch one more time I will end you”

Tony turned the note between his fingers, thinking, while his lunch, that hadn’t really been his, digested. The notes seemed to be escalating and somehow unfitting for the aging HR-assistant.

“How well do you guys know Mavis from HR? Does she seem somewhat…unstable?”

“We know she hates you,” McGee mumbled through a mouth full of PB&J sandwich.

“You have that effect on women once they get to know you,” Kate added with a smirk.

He was about to make a snarky comeback when Ziva walked past talking on her phone. She flashed him a lewd smile keeping her eyes on him longer than necessary, momentarily distracting him.

“ _She_ doesn’t hate me.” Tony pointed his thumb in the direction Ziva had disappeared in and grinned broadly.

“No, Tony.” Kate shook her head. “Don’t pull your usual crap on _her_ ,” she added in a hushed voice.

“What don’t I know-“ Tony started saying, confusion making his gut churn.

“Where our missing lieutenant is?” Gibbs said gruffly, effectively putting an end to the conversation, but not to Tony’s churning gut.

***

Tony did a double take on Thursday as he reached for the familiar food container. Not a yellow note this time, but a picture of a dead rat. He stood upright, hesitating a few seconds, then shrugged and grabbed the container anyway. It would take more than a nasty picture to scare him off. He was still whistling the Mission Impossible theme song when he reached his desk and sat down.

Tony removed the picture and wished the container was transparent. He hated rats and was losing his appetite at the prospect of having a box with a dead rat on his desk.

Mavis wouldn’t be that cruel, would she?

He glanced at the picture again and turned it over, raising an eyebrow at the now familiar scribble.

“this may or may not contain rat poison”

Feeling confident there wasn’t an actual dead rodent in it, he opened the box and smiled as the mouthwatering smell of chocolate cake reached his nostrils. He held the cake up to his nose and took another sniff, wondering what rat poison smelled like, but humming loudly all the same at the sweet scent.

Kate and McGee glared at him.

“Envy is one of the most potent causes of unhappiness,” Tony said haughtily in their general direction, putting the cake down and grabbing a fork.

He glanced at the warning, then at the cake, while licking his lips. Surely nobody working for law enforcement would be dumb enough to put actual rat poison in someone’s food. Even if it technically was their own food. Everybody in the Navy Yard knew how good Abby was at her job, right?

After 15 minutes of contemplating whether or not he should risk it, the smell was overwhelmingly delicious, McGee let out a frustrated huff.

“Either eat the cake or let someone else have it,” McGee said sounding annoyed.

“If you think I’m giving you this exquisite piece of chocolate cake, you’re mistaken,” Tony replied as he shielded the cake with his arm from McGee’s hungry eyes and glared at him.

When he spotted Ziva over McGee’s shoulder, he perked up hoping to catch her eye. He still knew very little of the Israeli and hoped to strike up another conversation. Preferably one where she didn’t laugh at him.

“Buongiorno,” he said a little too loudly for an office setting.

It did the trick, though, and she turned around slowly, her eyebrows knitting the tiniest bit as her eyes narrowed, sizing him up. A corner of her mouth twitched up as a playful look appeared in her eyes and she sauntered over to him. His eyes swept over her briefly and he couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept on his lips.

She was about six feet from him when she glanced at his desk, her eyes narrowed at the picture of the dead rat, and her face turned murderous as she pointed at him accusingly.

“You owe me 2 weeks of lunch!” she said with outrage.

Tony blinked in confusion and leaned back in his chair, away from the sudden outburst of anger aimed towards him. So…it wasn’t Mavis’ lunch he’d been stealing but the new hot chick’s? He smiled, wondering how he could get her to cook for him again. Well, technically not _again_ , but…

He arched an eyebrow when he realized she was still looking at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“I will…buy you lunch for a whole month,” he offered quickly, hoping to diffuse some of her anger.

Ziva’s brow furrowed and she looked him over slowly, contemplating his offer.

“Fine,” she agreed nonchalantly with a shrug.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Tony laced his fingers behind his head and his smile slid back in place.

Ziva let out an unimpressed chuckle, then noticed the cake. She pursed her lips, took the cake and dumped it in the trash can next to his desk.

“Trust me, you really do not want to eat that,” she said as she scrunched her nose.

Tony gaped at her wide-eyed, then at his trash can, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

Ziva made a half-turn to walk away, then turned back and squinted at him. “Didn’t your parents teach you it’s impolite to steal other people’s food?”

“Well, my dad’s basically a con-man, so…” he explained casually.

Ziva’s brow knitted at his comment.

“What exactly does your dad do?” Tony tried.

“He’s the director of Mossad,” she said flatly.

Tony sat up straighter in surprise. “What agency are you liaising for again?” His mind was reeling.

Ziva replied in a dangerous tone, “Mossad.”

He blinked slowly, realizing he’d been stealing lunch from a Mossad officer. Maybe the threats on those sticky notes hadn’t been as empty as he had assumed.

“Your parents taught you to be an assassin?” His eyes flitted to the chocolate cake in his trash can.

Ziva smirked. “A polite assassin.”

“Pretty sure impolite theft is considered less problematic than polite murder,” he countered.

She chuckled, “Perhaps you shouldn’t be lecturing me on morality, Tony ‘sex machine’ DiNozzo. I had an interesting chat with Mavis from HR, your reputation precedes you.”

“Is it true?” McGee blurted out, drawing attention to the fact that the two of them were still surrounded by coworkers. “Did you kill a man with a credit card once?”

“I assure you, all the rumors you have heard about me are true,” she didn’t take her eyes of Tony when she said it.

“I haven’t actually heard any rumors about you,” Tony said, feeling like he was missing out on some juicy gossip.

“Good. Obscurity works in your favor when you’re a spy.” She winked.

He swallowed hard, his mind wandering to every single Bond girl that had appeared on his TV screen and what Ziva would look like in a revealing evening gown. And where she would hide her gun. And would she let him strip search her for the gun.

“Unlike your reputation, Tony, which definitely works against you.” She looked him up and down again and leaned in closer, murmuring, “Except, perhaps, with me.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as he watched her walk away, confident that a strip search wasn’t entirely out of the question. Assuming she didn’t kill him first, that is.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is greatly appreciated and savored.


End file.
